


Carry Me Over the Line

by BouncyBrownDog



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Glader Slang, Hurt/Comfort, It does get better, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tags will be added, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BouncyBrownDog/pseuds/BouncyBrownDog
Summary: It's a Hunger Games AU. We all know how the story goes.But how does it go when the Gladers are the ones going into the arena?Thomas' worst nightmare is bought to life as he volunteers for the 52nd Hunger Games. As much as he fears his fellow tributes, he has bigger problems. Most prominently the fact that his life may soon be cut short and there is one particular boy he meets along the way he would very much like to kiss.
Relationships: Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, this is a repost of a previously abandoned work I'm not quite ready to give up on...  
> Constructive criticism and compliments welcome! Oh, and fair warning, I tend to get a little over excited with commas.  
> This was first posted in 2015(!!) so my writing style has (hopefully) changed since so the first few chapters may read a bit odd compared to the rest.  
> I don't know how often his will be updated, but I will not delete or give up on this again... pinky promise.  
> This is unbetad so all mistakes are my own, and I own nothing but the plot :)  
> All triggers will be listed at the start of the chapter, however if you know from the tags you shouldn't be here please take that responsibility and keep yourself safe :)
> 
> TRIGGERS:
> 
> Implied self harm

The midday sun was beating down on the town square of District ten on the day of the reaping.  
Thomas kept his eyes glued to the ground, hoping and praying he made it home tonight.  
He could feel the fifteen year olds around him trying to ease the tension, making jokes in hushed voices and scuffing a pebble back and forth on the dusty ground as speech after speech droned on, but nothing could undo the knot of worry in Thomas gut.

His name was in there twenty-eight times and his adopted older brother, Minho, had forty-eight slips with his name on them, they had both refused to let the youngest Chuck take any tesserae when the food had fast run short.  
Their parents had all five of the kids working from dawn till well after dusk to try and make ends met but it was never enough. They would never earn enough to not fear when their next meal would be, living in the livestock district was a battle especially when the siblings would never rise above their station as farmhands.  
Despite the struggles, Thomas loved his family; his mother's smile shone and his fathers hearty laugh warmed the hearts of everyone in the room. His parents loved each other and their kids and fought every second to give them the best shot possible, but there were somethings they couldn't control such as the results of the reaping they were currently standing in with the siblings far from each others comfort. Chuck was at the back with the other terrified twelve year olds, the twins and Thomas huddled away with the fourteens and fifteens respectively and Minho right up the front with those about to age out.

As the Treaty of Treason dragged on, unease for his elder brother filled his thoughts. Thomas strained to get a glimpse of Minho, feeling like he was a district away in that moment. Tall and well muscled from years of work on the farms, Thomas spotted him easily enough and breathed a gentle sigh of relief. Then, almost as though he had heard him, he turned to meet Thomas’ gaze for a second, his trademark smirk doing nothing to mask the tension in his shoulders, before turning his back and bowing his head.  
With little else besides anxiety to occupy his thoughts, boredom set in. Thomas settled for picking at the scabs on his arm and periodically glancing up at the stage, he felt his heart sink when he saw the two victors hadn’t even bothered showing up to the reaping, having presumably given up on any hope of having a decent pair of tributes instead of the typical cannon fodder.

The district had only ever had two victors and they were young, Newt Isaacs, and Teresa Anjes.  
Teresa was vicious in her games only three years ago when she was sixteen, coming out with the highest kill score of anyone in the harsh desert arena, the desperation of the situation mad her terrifyingly manipulative and dangerous. Secretly Thomas was almost disappointed when she became the districts second ever winner.  
Newt won his games five years ago at age twelve, shocking everyone. They showed very little footage of Newt throughout his games in the giant, ever shifting maze arena, leading everyone to question how he had managed it. Especially as he had inexplicably shattered his leg partway through, leaving him with a permanent limp. Thomas remembers watching the latter part of that year with his heart in his mouth, allies died in defence of the young boy without hesitation until the final viscous battle which saw Newt crowned victor against all odds. Newt emerged from the arena a humble and relieved young boy, never talking much of himself or his injury but over time he changed into something inexplicably darker, colder even. Thomas had always suspected that there was more to the story than that which was public knowledge but...

Thomas jumped when grudging applause erupted from the crowd.  
The female tribute had just been announced, Thomas strained to see who it was but couldn’t quite make out who had just been handed a death sentence. He turned to ask the kid beside him , when words he never quite thought he’d hear stopped his heart and left his brain short circuiting.

“Minho Edison.”

Time slowed to a stop as Minho turned, shock registering on his face, and gave him a broken smile, before slowly heading towards the stairs.  
Thomas mind raced as he felt the crowd breathe a sigh of relief.  
This couldn't be it.  
He watched in horror as his brother and best friend climbed the stairs, thoughts scrambling as his mouth called out two unthinkable words.

“I volunteer! I volunteer!”

Silence fell across the square as every eye turned to him as they grasped the gravity of the statement.  
Thomas was making history and he knew it. Occasionally a seventeen or eighteen year old would volunteer for their younger sibling , but never once had an older sibling be spared the arena in such a poor district, fighters let alone victors were all but legend.  
Minho froze, foot hovering just about to connect with the stage. When he pivoted on the spot and slowly made his way back down to the safety of the crowd. Pure fury was all Thomas could see in his body and when their eyes met, and Thomas knew Minho would have a thing or two to say about what he'd done.  
As he took his brother’s place on the stage, a peculiar calmness came over him.  
He knew what came next, a few short days of luxury followed by a, hopefully, quick yet unfortunately public death.  
The thought of his imminent demise didn’t scare him though; in fact it was almost comforting, and as Thomas sweltered under the sun he realised that was what scared him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas says goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a fairly old fandom I was surprised at the response to this! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this work and especially those who commented :)  
> This chapter is unbeteaed and was written at 2am so please blame any mistakes on sleep deprivation haha  
> Please enjoy!  
> P.S. The commas are have mastered the art of inserting themselves into sentences without me knowing, sneaky
> 
> Triggers:  
> Mention of suicide  
> Mention of self-harm  
> Anxiety

The remainder of the reaping passed in a blur, speeches mixing together between bursts of reluctant applause. Thomas glanced over at his district partner occasionally but she never once moved her eyes from the distance with an empty, glassy stare. He'd had a spark of recognition when they shook hands, Harriet Tubman.  
If Thomas recalled correctly, she’d been in her final year of eligibility for the reaping. Despite living less than a stones throw away from him, Thomas had never really met her but he had heard the whispers through the district about a quiet, isolated girl who just so happened to be an excellent shot with a dart gun. The thought made him nervous, she was already competent with a weapon, what did he have?

Anxiety gnawed away at Thomas as the reaping came to a close and he was ushered, none too gently, into the decaying Justice building. The heavy door shut, trapping him in a hot, dusty room by himself. Thomas crumpled onto the suede couch nearby, and attempted to slow his breathing while simultaneously collecting his thoughts for what was to come, saying goodbye.  
He wrote a little speech in his head, trying to figure out how he would explain himself to the only people he had in this world but as soon as he heard their footsteps down the hall all thoughts of preparedness flew from his mind.  
Minho burst into the room, the rest of his family shuffling sombrely behind.  
“What the shuck were you thinking Tom? Were you thinking? You shuck idiot Tom!” Minho shouted, desperation filling every word and Thomas couldn’t help but flinch.  
He knew Minho would be livid, but he also knew that his brother would be more use to their family than he was.“I’m s-sorry Minho, I’m s-so sorry. B-But t-they n-need you” Thomas stuttered, looking down in shame. It was at this point his mother stepped in to comfort him while his father pulled Minho back.  
“Tom, it’s… it’s ok.” His mother soothed, telling him empty words of how she would make his favourite beef roast when he returned and that the twins would make sure his rooster was well cared for while he was away. His family continued to comfort him in this manner, reminding him of the good times they’d had together and making promises they all knew were pointless until they trickled out of the room to grieve leaving only Chuck and Minho.

Chuck had barely said a word the entire time, mostly alternating between quiet sobbing and outright bawling.

_You’re going to abandon him, throw him to the wolves._   
_Poor little Chuck._   
_All alone._   
_Just like you, all alone._   
_No one to help you when they skin you alive and rip out your throat._

Thomas jerked his head in an attempt to rid himself of the dark thoughts crawling in his mind.  
This time was not for him, it was to comfort his younger brother if he could.  
He opened his arms “Come’er Chuckie” he barely said as the youngest boy threw himself into his brothers arms.“Tom, d-don’t d-die, fo-for me.” Chuck spluttered through the tears. It hurt Thomas to hear his little brother so upset and asking for promises they both knew he couldn’t make. He rocked Chuck gently, stroking his curls until he quieted his sobs. The younger boy didn’t let go, frankly Thomas didn’t want him to.  
After what seemed like forever, Minho cleared his throat, “Chuckie, could I have a quick chat to Tom, alone?”  
Chuck snuffled and dragged his feet towards the door, taking one last look at his older brother before bursting back into tears and running out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut Minho marched over and pulled Thomas into a tight hug simultaneously crushing and grounding him to the present.  
The older boy pulled back and fixed him with a hard stare, “Tom, is this about you wanting to die?”  
“No! Minho wha-”   
“Are you sure? Think carefully before you lie to me Thomas. I’ve spent the last six months fighting to keep you from putting yourself six feet under and if you’ve used me to -“  
“Minho no! It’s not like that!” Thomas exclaimed, embarrassment flooding him as his older brother stared at him for an explanation, expression unmoving from stone cold anger.  
“I guess, I mean, I think it was almost instinct? No Minho-,” He backtracked, dropping his eyes to the floor as his brother’s expression grew somehow colder.  
“I mean all I could think about was saving you, you work five times faster than anyone else in the family and with one less mouth to feed you might be able to support them properly. I’d never be able to do that on my own. I know I have some, you know, issues, ” Thomas explained, dancing around the topic, “but it’s not all that I am, family comes first. You know that.”

_Family comes first does it?_   
_So how come you let your-_

Thomas bashed his head against the wall as Minho let out a shout and pulled him forward by his arm to stop him doing further damage to himself but he had unknowingly grabbed where still-healing cuts were, causing Thomas to jerk his arm back in pain against Minho’s tight grip.  
His brother looked at him, sadly.  
“You said it had stopped Tom.”  
“It had, the voic-“  
“No Tom. You said it had stopped.” He repeated as he lifted Thomas sleeve up to see the damage he’d done to himself. Thomas felt his brother recoil at the site of his scabbed and scarred arms, frankly he was just as repulsed by them at times.  
“Shuck Tom, you should’ve told me.”  
Thomas felt awful. This was meant to be goodbye and closure for his family but all he’d done was hurt Minho and laden him with a burden he thought was in the past and that the rest of his family wasn't even aware of. It wasn't fair, none of it was and with that thought Thomas felt the tears he'd been holding in start to fall.

Noticing Thomas' emotional fortress breaking down Minho pulled him into another bone crushing hug, unsure of who was comforting who at this point when he felt Minho’s breath again his ear.  
“Don’t you think for a single second that I don’t know who _this_ is really about Tom. Don’t lie to either of us.” Thomas gulped and suddenly became very conscious of the sensitive scars on his stomach.   
Minho could always read him in a way no one else could.  
He pushed Thomas back so he could look him straight in the eye.“Don’t you dare give up Tom, not for me and not for-.”  
At that moment peacekeepers burst into the room and grabbed Minho by the arms, nearly dragging him out of the room, the door slamming shut behind them leaving Thomas alone once more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey all I know it's been a while but here we are :)  
> Told you I wouldn't give up and I also told you I'd be inconsistant XD  
> I really appreciate all the feedback, definitely feeds the motivation to know that people are enjoying the fic.  
> I am curious to know what you think of Newt in this? He refused to be as chill as I wanted him and idk but I think I like it haha.  
> As always all mistakes are my own and I own nothing except the plot.  
> Anyway, the other possible punctuation marks I could use are being held hostage by the commas and we're waiting on back-up.  
> Enjoy :)
> 
> Triggers:  
> Self harm (minor)  
> Intrusive thoughts

Thomas sat there, frozen for a few seconds while his mind replayed what had just happened.Minho was right he shouldn’t just roll over and let someone butcher him, but what was the point fighting fate? He already felt a million miles away from his family and if he returned Thomas knew things would never be the same.  
Who was he kidding? Nothing had been right for months. He was the reason the twins, Kate and Frankie barely spoke, why Chuck stopped eating and Minho had started drinking. He was the reason his father sat up at night and his mother worked herself to the bone.

_It’s your fault._  
_Nothing is ok and it’s your fault_  
_Stupid, usele-_

An unexpected knock at the door startled Thomas out of his thoughts. He kept his eyes fixed to the floor as his body shook from being so tightly wound.  
He jumped but didn't look up when he heard the creak of the door opening. his senses were on high alert as the unknown visitor started speaking with a strong accent."I would ask what you were thinking, but I get the impression you've just been given that lecture.” Thomas looked up, and felt his breath drain out of him as his eyes took in his unexpected visitor. Newt Isaacs, their district's first ever victor was standing in front of him, his blonde hair messy, and a calm albeit guarded expression sitting comfortably on his face.  
He moved a little further into the room in what should’ve been a graceful manner but was hindered by clank of a cane and his obvious limp.  
“Mind if I sit with you?”  
Thomas, not in any position to turn the other boy away nodded and his soon to be mentor moved to sit next to him.

They sat in silence a while, the tick of the clock and gentle breaths the only sound between the pair until burning curiosity got the better of Thomas.  
“Why are you here?” He asked, voice rough from anxiety and utter exhaustion “I mean… I don’t understand.”  
Newt gave the wall in front of them an empty smile.“That makes two of us,” he replied, tone surprisingly soft. “Well, I have to admit I’m curious. For the past four years I’ve been given nothing but broken kids from broken homes with broken spirits. In short nothing to work with and not enough time to give them a chance, most of them give up before they make it to the capitol and once that happens, there’s nothing I can do,” the boy spoke candidly. “But you, you’re different somehow. I saw you volunteer at the reaping, I was in the crowd at the back, and I have to ask Tommy, why did you do it?”  
Thomas gulped, both at the probing question and the use of the nickname. He tried to form words but his tongue wouldn't co-operate, his mouth sandpaper dry.  
Tears of frustration started to form in his eyes, embarrassing the boy further. He pinched himself hard, he couldn't cry in front of a victor.Newt moved Thomas’s pinching hand away from his arm before placing his fingers under the other boy’s chin.  
“Look at me Tommy,” he said calmly, lifting the other boy’s head so their eyes met, “let the tears come, ok? Your mind is processing everything that’s happening, It’s ok, let it.” He fixed his gaze on Thomas’s face, grounding him as the younger boy attempted to quell the overflow of emotion.  
This was unexpected. There were stories of Newt Issacs after his games, how he’d gone from a quiet, kind and helpful kid to an unhinged killer who cackled at the violent deaths of the tributes he was meant to have helped. Some people admired him, others were terrified of him however this Newt Issacs was nothing like the insane, broken shell of a human being Thomas had been expecting.Thomas took a deep breath to control the tears, and started to speak.  
"I volunteered because…” He thought of the conversation he’d had barely ten minutes ago with his older brother, “A while back something happened and Minho, he kept the family together. The days when it was too hard for our siblings to get out of bed he picked up their work and never once complained. When mum disappeared for days on end and dad wouldn’t get up from his chair Minho feed us and looked after us and when I… well felt bad he would sit with me until I was ok again. I guess what I’m saying is he has this drive that no matter what’s happening he can push through and get what needs to happen done. He’s incredible, I wouldn’t be able to be that person for everyone so I guess in a way it’s not so much about saving my brother as it is saving my whole family.”  
Newt didn’t take his eyes off of Thomas, studying him before asking,“And what about you? Where do you fit into this?”  
“How is that relevant?”  
What right did this stranger have to what was left of his life?  
The blonde boy once again lifted Thomas’s head, demanding eye contact.  
“It’s all relevant. You shook hands with the devil today and in a weeks time you’ll walk through his door and into the flames. That’s not new, sibling sacrifice happens year in and year out but you’ve detached from whats happening. You’ve babbled on telling me about your family and how this will affect them without a peep about how it’ll affect you. That means you’re either incredibly dangerous or incredibly unstable and I need to know which one.”  
“What if I’m both?” He responded, anger filling his veins as he met Newt’s gaze with a cold steely challenge. To his surprise the older boys face split into a grin.  
“Then I think we’ll get along just fine.”  
Manic and frightening were the first words that sprung to mind. Looking into soulless eyes Thomas started to understand why this former tribute had become so infamous within the district, and yet it raised more questions than it answered.

“I can’t. It’s too much to give them hope then tear it away.” Thomas whispered, exhaustion and fear crippling him as he started hyperventilating. “They don’t need that betrayal, I’ve put them through enough,”

_Enough?_  
_You’re going to put them through more_  
_When you scream for them as you’re ripped_  
_into bloody pieces_  
_over_  
_and over_  
_and_  
_ov-_

As Thomas moved to crack his head against the wall Newt moved in the same instant bringing his hand behind Thomas’s head to soften the blow. As quickly as it appeared the scary look had faded from Newt’s face and was replaced once again by the mellow and kind one previously in place.  
The younger boy froze as the victor dropped his hand from behind his head rubbing it from the sting of the impact.  
“I won’t pretend to know what’s going on Tommy, but I do know the fights already started, up here,” he said touching the younger boy’s forehead, “and you need to fight like hell.”

Thomas was about to respond or have a panic attack, he wasn’t quite sure which yet, when a peacekeeper opened the door and grabbed Newt announcing his time was up."Yea, yea, I'm going!” Newt replied, slinking away from the peacekeepers grasp. "I'll see you on the train in a bit Tommy," Newt said, before he limped out of the room and it shut with an isolating squeak.


End file.
